P a L m b e a c h, s u m m e r 9 6

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P A L M   B E A C H ,   S U M M E R   1 9 9 6

lighthouse

 (n.) 

– a tower or other structure displaying  

a light or lights for the guidance of vessels at sea.

 

An early moon had risen, casting a pale silver light over the 

sand. The world was turning blue, as though the day could no 

longer hold onto its colours. In the fading light she could see 

the lighthouse at the far end of the beach, a luminous streak 

in the sky. Kase had walked the track to it so many times during 

the day but never at night. She wondered what the cold, dark 

ocean would look like from high above. The bonfire crackled 

and the waves washed against the shore. The murmurs of her 

friends reached her; voices lulled by the heat of the fire and 

the wine. 

‘Want to walk up to the lighthouse?’

It was as though Sylvie had read her mind. But Sylvie was 

always reading her mind. There was a line of communication 

running between them and they had long ago stopped saying 

‘jinx’.

‘Yes. Want to see if the others are up for it?’

‘Nah,’ they said in unison and linked arms. 

The Beautiful Words_Finals.indd   1

The Beautiful Words_Finals.indd   1

6/10/21   2:30 pm

6/10/21   2:30 pm

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VA N E S S A   M c C A U S L A N D

‘I’m cold.’ Kase huddled into the thin lines of Sylvie’s ribs. 

‘Here.’ Sylvie took off her scarf and wound it around Kase’s 

neck.

It smelled like Sylvie. Vanilla musk mixed with smoke from 

the fire. As she stood, the world tilted slightly. ‘Are you as drunk 

as me?’ she asked as Sylvie steadied her.

‘A bit. Not too bad. Not as bad as the others.’ Sylvie pulled 

her close against the early summer breeze. 

They walked in silence, the soft, cold sand numbing their 

toes, the salty air on their lips. They reached the bank of bush 

leading to the lighthouse and Kase looked back. The fire was 

like a warm beacon. A shiver ran through her. ‘Are you sure we 

shouldn’t get the others to come?’

‘It looks like they already are.’

Kase could just make out the forms of their friends moving 

towards them up the beach, sea-salt ghosts hovering in the dusk 

air. Tristan, Gabe and the others. She yelled to them, but the 

breeze snatched her voice before she and Sylvie walked into 

the bush. 

The Beautiful Words_Finals.indd   2

The Beautiful Words_Finals.indd   2

6/10/21   2:30 pm

6/10/21   2:30 pm

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C H A P T E R   1

friend

 

(n.)

 – someone attached to another by  

feelings of affection or personal regard. 

Sometimes the words were light, like tissue paper. She could 

feel them brush her skin, a sweet caress. Other times they were 

dark and heavy – stones, or rotting bones to be carried deep 

in your gut. Sylvie didn’t know if other people experienced 

words like she did. She assumed everyone held a word in 

their mind and felt its tiny pulse. Felt them under their skin, 

in their eyes, pricking to tears. Sylvie had long ago found the 

word to describe what she was – a logophile. The list of her 

beloved words sat in her heart like a balm. Elixir. Lullaby. 

Eloquent. Pristine. Ethereal.

But it wasn’t just words. Everyone thought her job was 

boring. Don’t you get depressed going into people’s homes after they’ve